One In The Same: Of Poppies and Stone (Book Two)
by Jules Harper
Summary: A failed attempt to end her life on Midgard begins a new life on Asgard, unwillingly. Her time on Asgard brings her to realize her relationship with Bruce was never meant to be and rethinks her hateful position with Loki. All said, Loki meticulously works his way to her heart, obsessed with the stone within her, and eventually secures his prized creation.
1. Rebirth (part one)

The twilite birds of canary yellow flutter about within the eighty-foot tall trees at sun break. Sől, the first of four suns upon Asgard, stretches her rays of hope well into the vast lands of Aesir. Life of creatures in wholesome varieties stir awake, ready for another day of trades, carpentry, mending, teaching, and play. The Gods always rise with Sől to respect her daily return.  
Thor enters the horse barn in a simple tan leather vest and dark brown breeches. He puts on his leather riding boots and approaches Gladr's stall.  
"Morning to you!", picking up a dandy brush to clean the legs. "Always a good day for a ride with my friend."

For someone who could heal themselves, Jules was in a world of hurt: a crushed skull, swelling of the brain, blood bleeding out of her left ear, too many ribs broken and fractures, collapsed left lung, broken left pelvic bone, broken left fibula ... the list goes on and on. She spooked the staff in the ER as she unexpectedly awoke in a blood-curling scream of pain just shortly after a dose of epinephrine was administered. Her natural healing overrode her desire to die and the drug got her to nearly leave the bed. Thereafter, Jules' wrists and ankles were strapped down, despite the pentobarbital knocking her out cold. She recalled none of it. A blessing, no doubt.  
As the barbital nursed through her veins, the Neurosugeons removed the handful of broken skull pieces from the upper rear of the head and replaced it with a four by three inch titanium plate. The next major surgery was to repair her left collapsed lung, pin the left pelvic bone, reset the badly dislocated left shoulder, pin and cast the broken bones of the arms and legs, and pump her full of drugs to keep the body from rejecting the metal and pins to hold her damaged body together. Too weak to heal on her own, she lay in ICU for six weeks in a drug-induced coma.  
Six long weeks, she sat in a light gray dream with nothing to see. The only stimuli experienced was the solid ground below her, but no physical body or the ground itself embraced her vision. Devoid of sound, she suffered terribly in her phobia. Her body rocked back and forth in a tight ball, either sitting on her ass or lying on her left side. Often she hummed the calming tunes of Sigur Rós to remain sane. She asked the Gods if this was Purgatory, but received no answer.

No mention of Jules' healing skills were brought to the medical staff attention. BlackOps kept their distance to keep their hands clean and everyone whom knew of her healing ability was told to keep quiet. Despite her body showing physical signs of improvement, cognitively she remain in a persistant vegetative state. The barbituate was weaned on week seven, but her body quietly slept on. With no signs of consciousness, she lay still as if she were dead.  
Her prognosis of recovery diminished month after month, for the electroencephalogram and functional MRI's continuted to show no response to stimuli. The Neurosurgeons had warned early on that Jules' prognosis of recovery was slim to none, considering the height she fell and the hard armored surface of the suburban which captured her was much like hitting concrete. By the fourth month, a court order was approved to remove her from life support. Assuming she would not survive, BlackOps carefully kept her anonymity under tight secrecy with connections within the hospital staff to remove the body as soon as she was declared dead. Cautiously, the team of nurses monitored her condition as the mechanical ventilator was removed first. Jules' body sensed a change in its environment and immediately healed itself without her consent to breathe on its own. The dialysis machine was second, which her body immediately took over kidney functions. Surprised by her strength to live, the intravenous fluids remain as well as the feeding tube until further testing determined the next course of action.  
Bruce was given permission to attend the removal of the life support equipment, holding her left hand in quiet tears and replacing The Empress ring upon her ring finger. When she continued to thrive, his eyes lit up with immense hope and began to speak to her softly of the weather, his work, and current events within the city. Every day, between 3 and 4pm, he sat to the right of her bed and read from the local newspaper or shared a chapter from his book of the week. Often, he shared his opinion of each story read with criticism and dry humor. Before his daily leave, he would speak lightly into her right ear with eyes on the monitors. In the world of gray, his words never reach her.  
"Jules. It's Bruce. If you can hear me, squeeze my finger."  
With a lack of response, he'd remove The Empress from her ring finger and replace it upon a gold chain around his neck.  
Jules' lack of improvement began to slowly eat away his confidence, bringing forth a sadness he soon couldn't manage alone. Five weeks later, his visits became sporadic and finally he stopped visiting. The continued lack of response to stimuli and test results showing no improvement in brain function was too much for him to bear. He took a leave of absence and moved to a small poor village in South Vietnam to practice family medicine. Rachel promised to keep him updated of her condition, which she did with the same daily text: "She sleeps quietly today." On occasions, Bruce responded back with a simple "Thank you", but generally he kept quiet.  
Tony is no church-going man, but he does fear God. He also has a personal issue with suicide. For the first few months, he refused to visit Jules and only began to do so out of support of his best friend. Regardless of her reasons to attempt an end to her life, he remain angry for involving Bruce and himself. He wished she had flown far away, out of their presence, to complete the task.

Heimdall kept his starry eyes upon Midgard and watched Jules daily per orders of the AllFather for a sign of her wake. He witnessed everything that tragic day, giving Thor a play by play of her unfolding doom. As the doctors struggled to stabilize her blood pressure in the ER, Thor made his leave from Himinbjorg.  
"Advise me first, I pray not, of her death."  
"Then you will not hear from me.", said Heimdall in a clever tone.  
"You believe she will survive?", mounting his horse.  
"I do.", with a nod.  
Thor shared a slight smile, nods, and drove his horse back to Ida.  
Thor was made aware of Jules' dire condition, three months after the incident. He stopped for a visit with Rachel, and over a hot lunch of his favorite cheeseburgers and beer, she broke the news. Jules' slow physical healing and lack of mental recoup surprised Thor. He questioned Rachel's honesty and whether BlackOps-D were holding back. Upset he didn't believe her, she took him to Northwestern Medical and paid a visit. Standing outside of the room, Rachel pointed to each medical device and explained their functionality from the viewing window. Thor was dumbfounded, questioning how one with such abilities could succumb to poor health. He believed Jules was immortal, much like himself. It would take a handful of tenacious Gods to defeat him to death. It should be no different for Jules.  
Heimdall also sensed a familiar upon Midgard, one of Mischief, just prior to witnessing her fall. He caught a fleeting glimpse of Loki leaving Bruce's residence with a sudden presence within the Residence Hall which Loki resides. Upon the second sunrise, Odin enforced restrictions of magic and forcing Loki to wear The Gaul on both wrists. The very same golden metal bracelets Jules wore before and after being struck by Odin's power, now Loki bears. The dull yellow alloy, molten and infused with the ashes of giants known as The Gauls, is said to be made of stone as hard as diamonds. No amount of sorcery can be delivered while wearing the bracelets.  
Thanks to The Gaul worn upon his wrists, Loki had not made another visit to Midgard since the night he stood against the bedroom wall and watched Jules nuzzle Bruce's face and get fucked passionately. With a dagger in his right hand, he was slowly making his approach to kill Bruce with a hard blow upon his back. A pierce through his mortal heart, it would've eliminated any desires for Jules to remain on Midgard. With a bit of persuasion of the AllFather, Jules would've been brought to Asgard and there he could finish his next task: return the stone to the rightful owner. Over a slice of bread and fresh butter, he snacked in heavy thought. Thor's news of Jules' medical condition made no sense to him. He witnessed her powers, felt it sway and entwine within his own body as she saved his life in the ruins of her greenhouse.  
"She should not be lying in stupor. If she were here, the Bed would do her good!", he seethes.  
The Healing Elders of Asgard proudly maintain several Healing Beds and a gorgeous healing tank for the Gods of Aesir. The AllFather would never allow a Midgardian mortal to lie within either without his permission. Never. Loki lets out a sigh, picks up his mechanical lead pencil, and returns to his sketches of blades to be fabricated within the Foundry.  
Thor eventually made it known to Loki of Jules' deteriorating condition, a month after he spoke to Rachel. The first moment Loki had privacy in his residence, he raged. He threw his reading chair across the room, ripped the curtains down around the windows, and bellowed in a frenzied pace. He was terribly angry with himself. He believed had he taken the moment to stab Bruce through the heart, Jules would be on Asgard instead of the barbarian medical facility. His house arrest only complicated matters, yet his unyielding drive to obtain the stone and return it to Jules kept the fire of desire to succeed. With hands clasped behind his back, he paced the living room under heavy breath. His age old mind of several reincarnations and a current run of eight hundred and twenty years raced with broken thoughts of devilry. His feet finally stopped when he realized the coma was the perfect vehicle to restore what belonged to her. First, he needed the house arrest to end in order to have the bracelets removed. Then, he needed to persuade Thor in making a long overdue visit to Odin's beloved room of Tolken. In their teens, the boys would often visit the room together and mull over the items with their eyes. They'd discuss what they'd do with each relic, whom they'd overpower, and what realm they would conquer.  
"Such good days. I do miss them. So, how about it, Brother?", Loki says alone.  
It's been a good while since they made a visit together. The delicious plan instilled a fervor to rummage through book after book of spells within his private library. The book of Nissedúr caught his eyes, studied it profusely, and jotted down a few notes.  
"A visit to the Valley of Landvættir, it is!", he said in a smile with too much teeth.  
Landvættir is within Aesir, so The Gaul didn't hold him back. On horseback, a half days drive thru a path only wide enough for two horses and surrounded in heavy thicket, he enters a quaint miniature village. The valley is filled with nature spirits of great variety and his mind is set on just one.  
"Good day, my lady.", he says to a passing gnome. "Good day, sir.", readjusting the sack of flour resting on her right shoulder.  
"I am here to visit an old friend. His name is Nissedúr. Could you point in the direction of his abode?"  
"Why, his home is straight away. About a half a click? Look for a brown home with red roses out front."  
"Thank you, my lady.", nods, and presses forward.  
Nissedúr is taken by surprise to see Loki at his front door. The last he saw Loki was well over a thousand years when he asked for a spell to reciprocate the bark of the ash tree, Yggdrasil.  
"I though you dead, Loki! Please! Come inside!"  
"Thank you, my friend.", crouching low for the ceiling is only six feet high. "I brought some of your favorites."  
Loki opens a twenty pound bag full of brazen spheres and the old man lets out a squeal.  
"Whatever you have in mind, good sir, I am delighted to be of service!"  
Loki returned to his residence that eve, just as the moon rose over the city. The gift he received in return of the brazen spheres and good company, he carefully hid in his dresser. Wrapped in blue silk and tucked in a blue velvet bag lined in white fur, he laid layers after layers of shirts above it.

Month after month, Rachel continued to share the same update with Bruce, even though there was nothing to dole out. One day, he called Rachel back for a detailed update. He questioned the extent to which the staff is offering to help Jules' recovery. Rachel couldn't offer much, for she wasn't there everyday and any medical information was held private. He hungered to read her chart and flip thru the history of cognitive functioning tests. The phone call was disturbing. He angered for leaving her in the hands of modern medicine. Five days later, he made a trip home.  
_'Her physical body is sound, brain has proper blood flow, but she's still comatose? Something doesn't add up.'_

Loki asked for a meeting with his father regarding his house arrest and Odin agreed to his attendance.  
"Father. I ask you look upon me with trust. Hope. Faith, for I will not stray from trouble. I ask that Thor be my mentor and be by my waking side."  
Odin brushed his beard with no emotion or words.  
"These metal rings are burdensome in the Foundry. My precision with the pencil has weakened, bringing inaccuracies in my work. Please reconsider your punishement?"  
Despite Loki's recent mischiefs, the AllFather granted his request. The bracelets were removed with a meeting for both Loki and Thor to be present.  
"Thor. Loki. Both are to bestow time collectively. Neither of you to loose each other's sight unless busy at work.", says Odin with his chin up.  
Thor wasn't keen to his father's wishes, having to babysit his brother is how he understood it. Loki, on the other hand, got more than he had bargained for! Not only did he regain his freedom but also a ticket back to Midgard without having to sneak his way. Literally, he killed two birds with one stone. That afternoon on Asgard, Loki approached Thor with the idea of hitting Odin's trophy room. With his head tilted to the side and chin down, he nudges his brother's arm for attention.  
"Come, Brother! For old times sake!"  
"Yes. It has been a while!", laughing away.  
Like teenagers, they both smile to each other and head to The Room of Tolken. Loki double checks the presence of the blue velvet bag in his right pant pocket, bringing a smirk upon his thin lips.

The Room of Tolken glistened under the first sun and rise of the second. Made of the strongest of stone and laden in a sheet of gold, the ornate building consisted of four rooms. The first room hosted paintings, manuscripts, and drawings. The second room held stones and a variety of jewels. The third room held the Holy Grail and various mystical swords and armor. The fourth room was a steel chamber, housing the largest of relics. Thor loved the third room, for obvious reasons, and spent most of his time there. Loki was always interested in the manuscripts which spoke of spells and enchantments, but today his eyes were fixed on the pendant. As Thor entered the third room, Loki quickly made his move. He lifted Jules' pendant from the red velvet display and pushed with his might to dislodge the stone. From the blue velvet bag, he removed the fake stone, a mere perfect replica, and replaced it with a bit of magic to hold it in place. The original stone he put into the blue velvet bag and back into his right pocket. In glorious pride, he stood staring at Nissedúr's creation within Jules' pendant. Thor was still in the third room, inspecting his favorite swords, when Loki joined him. They began to recite stories told to them as children of the glorious battles fought and treasures gained. As they left Odin's treasures, Loki questioned Jules' condition.  
"She sleeps like the still winds of the night.", Thor says solemly.  
"We should make a visit. As representatives of Asgard, wishing her and her friends well.", saying so with both hands upon his heart.  
Thor looks at Loki with a questionable grin.  
"You? A representative of Asgard? You are pulling on my leg!"  
"You are right. You make an ideal advocate. I will be your witness.", he ends in a tight-lipped smile, for within the sarcasm is thick.  
Thor didn't have to think about it. He would have Rachel once more, and that was a good enough reason to visit Midgard. They took to their horses and rode forth to Himinbjorg. Heimdall wasn't the least amused to see Loki, yet he knew of the King's order for both Thor and Loki to be in each other's company. Heimdall laid heavy eyes upon Loki, just before he followed Thor into the light, which Loki returned with a gentle smile and a wink.

All these months, Jules' mind lay quiet in a gray haze with only the touch of her body and the smooth ground to greet her. She often pinched, squeezed, or scratched her skin just enough to feel pain, to verify her existence, yet death embraced her quietly with no one to take her. When Bruce stopped his visits, the haze began to slowly shift into colors and form. An exotic land of red poppies with a rocky edge leading to the Universe surrounded her. Before she could even take in the beauty, seven foot tall men, all laden in battle armor and broadswords, chased her thru the field of red. Her blood boiled from the heat of the chase and her tears raced across her cheeks. The Men In Black she never feared, but these men were new to her. She screamed forth in dismay and hollered vile at the menace, breaking the four foot tall stems and spilling forth petals of crimson around her. When she reached the edge of nowhere, she stopped, cowered, and sheltered her head with her forearms. The swords came down upon her and the nightmare would end with her standing in the field of poppies once more. Over and over, she ran from the men screaming, sweating, and cursing. The dream, stuck on repeat, continued daily until Bruce returned to see her. His warm touch upon her cold right hand and a gentle squeeze of her fingers to advise of his presence ended her terrorizing visions but returned her into a gray empty void of deathly silence.  
With her health in stable condition, BlackOps-D made their move to take over responsibility. Fistful of paperwork passed under the table with covered eyes and turned backs. Ticker tape of red were silently cut in the early morning hours of Sunday, when staff at the hospital was at a minimum. With no questions asked, BlackOps paid Northwestern Medical the full bill for Jules' stay and transported her to a medical wing at B.O.D.. A few days prior to her arrival, a temporary construction of housing arrangements on site were completed. Just thirty feet shy from The Glass House, the room reciprocated medical technology with added neuro equipment to monitor her brain function 24/7. BlackOps wanted to be on the safe side, overdoing unmanned medical devices attached to her body. Even the mattress had a movement sensor.  
Under tight observation, she lay on a comfortable bed with white sheets and a light white blanket covering her. With Bruce's contribution to medical science at BlackOps, he was given clearance to visit Jules. Because a large part of medical sensory equipment inside of The Glass House is his work, he was contracted as the Consulting Medical Officer upon her inauguration to Moose's observation chamber. Knowing who would be first to test the room, guilt held Bruce in a tight grip as he developed the specialized bed. But the guilt was traded with thankfulness upon assignment to monitor her condition full-time. When he wasn't with her, he was at home in his fourth floor workshop. A full-sized white, down-filled comforter lay undone with yards of thin white wiring neatly secured to a thin cotton sheet. Lying between a layer of down feathers to keep discreet from the user, he finishes his work by hand sewing it shut. This followed with a test of his work, sleeping with the white comforter for three weeks straight. His vitals transmitted to his laptop, keeping accurate minute by minute transmissions of his body temperature, heart rate, oxygen level, and hydration via water evaporation from loss of body heat. Sleeping with only his boxers, he unknowingly wove his scent with the cotton fibers for Jules to embrace later. The comforter wasn't part of the project but a last minute creation and sold to Moose approvingly as a backup.  
He made daily visits and often, up to three times a day, for he feared he'd miss an opportunity to say his last goodbyes before her death or have his last moment of embrace stolen to find her locked in Moose's pride and joy. He moved away from science to poetry and read to Jules at each visit. Meditation music played softly with his confident voice melded into one. He spoke of everything: his day at work, what he watched on the DVR, what he had for lunch at work, etc. Each visit ended with the slip of The Empress upon her ring finger along with a hold of her left hand with a simple request to squeeze his. She never would. The neuro monitor continued to display the slow alpha waves in gentle green hills and valleys. Yet in a field of red she ran in fear, for the sword slashers returned once more.

A very large viewing window separates her physical world to the observation hallway. Zero stimulation is allowed when visits were made, unless approved in advance, and only one visitor is allowed inside the room. BlackOps is playing it extremely safe. Several people sit in the hallway upon a beige couch after work to meet with Bruce for an update. Bruce wraps up his visit by resecuring the ring on his gold chain, followed with a last squeeze of her fingers. He bends over her forehead and lays a pressing kiss, followed by the words she often craved.  
"I love you."  
Butterflies always fluttered in his heart, when he shared those words over her restful face. He's hopeful she can hear him, but with a last glance of the neuro monitor, the slow green waves never budge.  
Bingo stands up in disbelief, when he eyes Loki with Thor and Rachel.  
"What is HE doing here?", rising from the couch in disbelief.  
"It's okay, my friend.", responds Thor.  
"NO, it's NOT okay! Why in the hell is he here!?"  
"Thor is acting as his escort and mentor.", responds Rachel.  
"We must be together, where ever. Father's rules.", says Thor.  
"Your Father's RULES don't APPLY on Earth! So take your damn ...".  
Rachel moves Bingo back away from both Thor and Loki and asks him to settle down in light whispers. Loki keeps a serious composure, yet struggles to do so. Watching Bingo break down over his presence was just too much fun!  
Hearing the commotion outside the room but out of view from the window, Bruce heads to the door. As he walks out the room, he spots Thor and then makes a mad bolt to Loki with fists ready to swing. Thor steps inbetween and stops Bruce in time.  
"WHAT THE FUCK?!", Bruce hollers.  
"We are only here on diplomacy. We are not here to make any trouble."  
"Diplomacy? What?! What ...you, you are kidding, right? This some kind of SICK JOKE?!"  
"I'm with you on that note.", gripes Bingo.  
"Please! Please! Stop it! Yes, they are here to say their respects and then they'll leave.", pleads Rachel.  
"You say it like she's dead.", snaps Bruce, sending a cold look to Rachel's eyes.  
Loki keeps his mouth shut and allows his brother to do the talking. Besides, he was more focused on how he was going to get into her room. Alone.  
"I don't want that Asshole anywhere NEAR her. No way!", scolds Bruce with his right index finger pointing at Loki.  
Rachel approaches Bruce to reassure him everything will be alright and the Asgardians were not here to cause any trouble. That's when Loki makes his move.  
"Has there been any improvement in her condition?"  
"Nobody answer that!", Bruce yells.  
"Ah ...no. No, there hasn't.", says Rachel followed with Bruce shooting her the evil eye.  
"Have you tried stimulating her with sounds, smells, touch, or movement?"  
"YES. EVERYDAY.", growls Bruce.  
"I know this may not approve, but if Thor and I pay a small visit, it may ...".  
"FAT CHANCE! No way in HELL will I allow it!"  
"Bruce, it's not up to you. And we don't know if it will or will not help. If anything, it can't hurt.", Rachel says softly with a hand upon his right forearm.  
"I agree with Bruce. I don't like the idea, especially Loki being in her presence.", says Bingo.  
"I trust he won't cause any trouble. Am I right, Loki?", Rachel says with a naïve smile.  
"Yes, indeed. I will just sit in that chair, there, hands to myself.", pointing to the chair close to the window.  
"And I will keep a close eye on my brother.", says Thor.

Thor enters first and stands tall to her right side of the bed as she continues to run away from unfriendly men. Thor speaks, but she hears nothing but the same men grunting and yelling at her to stop. He only spends a few minutes with her, sharing neutral words of his wishes for her recovery. Frankly, he cares little for her due to the past threats to kill his people. Her radical behavior from rescue to kill never made logical sense, but refused to question it for the God is a matter of fact thinker. It is what it is. As he makes his exit, Loki approaches the door.  
"Keep in that chair with hands away. Understood?", says Thor with a serious stare.  
Loki nods in a smile. Just as he is to enter, Bruce quickly gets up to his face.  
"You touch her? I kill you."  
Sharing a goofy startled smile, Loki is taken back by Bruce's personal and emotional attachment. He immediately realizes the Midgardian holds his heart strong for Jules. He holds back his response and laughter ensues within, as he enters the room.  
_'Ridiculous! A mortal has fallen with a likely Demi-God? Oh, this is too much!'_  
The door is to be shut at all times, and no exception is made with Loki inside. He takes a second to scan all of the equipment lying about and slowly approaches where Thor stood. He looks at her pale face, screaming of innocence, and dutifully examines her chest. He sights an opportunity. Due to the wiring leading to her heart and upper chest, the gown is fully open above her breastbone.  
In his youth, he lacked the dexterity to fight like his brother Thor. Yet his thin frame was quick to move and Odin placed him to train with Ófeigr, the Blade Master. As an Engineer, his wrists move with accuracy in his drawings. As a master of the short blade, he can filet a body in precision incapable by Man. He also spent a lot of time in the Library, with his able Mother and other Sorcerers, to study magic. Those days have paid off and today will be a fine example of such.  
He takes a seat in the chair to the right of the bed. With his back facing the window, he conjures the spell to stop time inside the room. On the other side of the glass, it appears that Loki is sitting in the chair and observes her quietly as promised. He choose to sit, instead of stand, for it appears less threatening. Immediately he rises, observes the four looking into the room to verify no one can see him standing. With time against him, he moves swiftly, drawing his jeweled dagger made just for the occasion. He places the tip of the blade center of her chest, where the pendant would almost lie but slightly higher. He pushes the tip of the blade in three inches deep and cuts an 'X' mark. With another spell, he cease the blood from leaving her. Carefully, he unwrap the blue stone from the silk and pushes it within the center of the mark with force. He twists the stone hard to set it deep in place, then returns the knife to his right hand to cut open his left palm directly over the stone and let his blood drip into the wound to soak it. A grimace leaves him, as he pumps his hand several times to get the blood to fill the cavity. Quickly, he returns the knife back into his coat pocket, picks up her right hand, rests it over the wound and stone, and leans into her right ear to say "Heal!". Her hand does just that. Within five seconds, the cut is gone, as well as the cut in his left palm. A quick readjustment of her arm and hand is made, a spell to remove any residual blood on their bodies, and he sits back down. The spell ends to stop time and Loki's overbearing smile overpowers the stale and quiet atmosphere.  
"The stone seeked you with purpose, Jules Harper. Now we shall see what purpose it holds for us."  
Loki knew he spent too much time for Bruce to bear, and he was right. Bruce enters the room with gusto and untrusting eyes. His tension, alone, was taught enough to snap One's bones with a proper slap. Yet, he finds Loki siting in the chair with hands resting on his lap as promised. Loki stands up, straightens his coat, and walks past Bruce with a polite smile. Bruce immediately inspects her body position, the wiring, and medical equipment. Nothing is amiss. Feeling as if someone had punched him in the chest from the stress, he sits down in the same chair and looks her over once more.  
Thor and Loki thanked Rachel and Bingo for allowing the visit and wished Jules a speedy recovery. In the transporter room, Thor and Rachel share a long hug and quick kiss. Loki turns away, rolls his eyes, and walks into the swirling gray matter without his brother. The thought of an immortal God and mortal Human "in love" disgusted him. It was wrong.  
Heimdall may be all-seeing and knowing, but he couldn't oversee Loki's magic. Heimdall knows this is his weakness and often it made him angry. Especially, when Loki returned from Midgard with a smile. Loki so wished to be a fly on the wall to watch Jules' transformation. He struggled with his strong desires to leave Asgard alone with magic, so he could witness her rebirth. It was a difficult decision, but he had to remain trustworthy. He needed this "you can trust me" partnership with Thor to last a little bit longer.

As Bruce remain in the chair, verbally cursing out Loki's visit to Jules, the beast within agreed by flexing his chest muscles to bring on discomfort. Gripping the front of his shirt with his left hand, he feels The Empress under the fingertips and his eyes water. His soft heart orders him to remove the ring, slips it upon her ring finger, and sits back down with an audible sigh.  
"I promise to protect you, but I need to apologize in advance should I fail. These Gods? I can't keep them from you. It drives me nuts! I just don't get it! They never visit me, and I've got abilities beyond anyone's imagination. Why you?"  
In her dream, the broadswords vanish, followed by the tall men, and she soon stands alone in the field of poppies.  
"Too quiet.", she says in a whisper.  
The field of crimson fades, swallowed whole by the Universe around her. Deep breathing, not her own, fills her ears. Suddenly, it looked like someone had spilled twenty different paint cans into her dream. The colors begin to bleed into each other, swirl around her body, and soon it takes shape to form the grass, the sky, and then her body. The scenery changes morphs to an island in multicolored stance and with sound. On a hilltop overlooking a ledge with houses below, majestic snow-covered mountains litter the background with the sound of the ocean battering the rocky shoreline. The view is terrific and a thankful change of events, but she is more interested to why the crazed men stopped chasing her. Why didn't they touch her at the edge of oblivion, as she cowered in fear? What has become of Purgatory? As she sits among the tall reed grass, she strokes the color changing blades with fingers and recognizes the abrasive and sticky flesh. The sensations in her hand, the visions of life surrounding her, and the cries of the cold Pacific waters brings her to feel alive. She laid flat on her back, spread out her arms and legs, and absorbs the gift presented to her.  
"I think I finally made it to Heaven."

"Maybe my presence isn't helping. You wanted to leave me. You wanted to die.", sniffling through his somber words. "I know you don't believe in miracles. But your body? It's strong, Jules. It fights to live! I just ...I wished your mind would fight with. But then again, you shouldn't even be alive. Maybe God decided to punish your decision and let half of you live."  
He rubs her fingers with tears he'd rather not express. Her cool skin feels deathly and only breaks him down further. Hopes and wishes bring his eyes to glance at the neuro monitor. Holding his breath, his heart feels as to flop outside of his chest as he watches the green sine waves erratically move across the monitor. Fast up on his feet, he looks closely at her face. A twitch under her eyelids drops his lower jaw and forgetting to breathe he gasps out loud for air. A hard squeeze is delivered to her cool right fingers and the peaks of each wave on the monitor rises high.  
"My God!"  
Bruce takes a closer look at her pale face and studies the minute twitches around her eyes. A shrill of excitement runs down his spine, as he selfishly savours the knowledge of her pending wake from the world. He gently tucks his right hand behind her left face and ear, stroking his thumb lightly across the cheekbone to express his glee. His eyes are fixed to the monitor, as he speaks softly into her right ear.  
"Jules? Can you hear me?"  
In her dream world, a male voice fades in and out above, bringing an end to her playful mood. With her eyebrows low, she squints at the sky above.  
"God?", she asks.  
The neuro monitor registers her inquiry with tight peaks in the slow-moving green lines. He tucks his left fingers inside her right hand.  
"Jules. Squeeze my hand if you can hear my voice."  
She heard the request and examines her right hand to find it empty. She makes a fist, opens it, and makes another fist. Her curiosity brings her to sit up, examine her surroundings, and eye the sky once more.  
"God? Are you taking me now?", holding up her hand in the air in a fist. "I'm ready to go."  
"Jesus!", Bruce says aloud in shock and turns to look at the closed door.  
"Jesus? For real?! But I'm not Christian.", she responds, lowering her hand in confusion.  
"I think she's waking up!", he yells to gather someone's attention.  
She scrambles to her feet, slightly cowers low with hands out to her side along the waist in a defensive posture, and circles a number of times to find the source of the voice. Anxiety fills her chest and lays heavy over her lungs, making it difficult to breathe. Her belief she suffered in Purgatory is no more. Her entry into Heaven is cancelled.  
"What's going ON here?!", she whispers with a tremble in her voice.  
Rachel and Bingo break the rules and enter the room.  
"She's dreaming!", says Rachel.  
"That's GREAT! Her brain activity has picked up. I'll get the Doc.", says Bingo, excitedly.  
"Wait!", both Bruce and Rachel yell.  
"Hold on a minute. Let's just ah ...let's give her a moment of peace ...", Bruce says with a hard swallow. "...before her world turns upside down."  
All three stand bedside, watching the minute twitches of her eyelids. Tired of the silence, Jules returned to lay on her back upon the reed grass and moves her arms and legs as to making a snow angel minus the snow. Her giggles comes thru in a grimace or a smile. The movement of her arms comes through with twitches of both hands. Bruce somberly picks up the right hand, kisses it, and holds it close to his heart.  
"Bingo? Would you mind letting the staff know?", says Bruce, as he continues to hold her and watch her face.  
"Not at all."  
As she continues to make grass angels, the sky begins to morph into a natural hue. White, wispy clouds take formation. A breeze picks up and passes over her body, carrying the random odors of the salty ocean. Sea gulls chatter at a distance. A quick rise to sit up brings life to her eyes. Everything around her appears in a natural state. She is no longer smiling. She's in awe.  
"Wow."  
Her mouth is trying to move with the words she spoke in her dream, yet unsuccessfully, due to the lame jaw muscles. The medical team arrives, pushing the three out of the room. Her chart is noted, checked, and a pen scribbles away. Wires are double checked to each medical device. The action is played out behind the big window with Bruce watching meticulously. After ten minutes of inspection, the wires are removed from her chest and head. The catheter and feeding tube is removed. The bed is propped up slightly at an angle with the IV line remaining. Bruce observes a Nurse inject a solution into the line. Her noticable twitches of her fingers end and her grimace turns into a frown. The Lead Doc exits the room with findings to share.  
"She's waking up, alright!", says the Doctor with a stance of pride. "She's an amazing specimen. If Human, she made medical history for recovery from diffuse axonal injury. We'll know more of the extent of her impairment, once she comes around."  
"What did you give her?", Bruce inquires of the sedative.  
"Lorazepam. Just a preventative for her transfer. Speaking of."  
Four men in blue jumpsuits arrive to transfer Jules to The Glass House. As the bed passes by, he takes a hard glance at her pale and slightly gaunt face. As the bed arrives to her new home, the security leader within the control room activates the door and a large glass panel to the far right unhinges. The IV is removed, her body cleansed by two female Nurses with wipes, redressed in a white tank and shorts, and then carried into the room by a single strong man. He lays her down, a Nurse covers her with Bruce's blanket, a final inspection of the floor is made for foreign objects, and the door's sealed. Bruce takes his chair behind an array of monitors linking to both the bed and the blanket. Verbally, he dictates her status for Moose to hear.  
"Thank you, Dr. Banner. Mr. Hunter?"  
Jim Hunter, a twenty-seven year old former Marine of the 3rd Battalion 3rd Marines, monitors the security sensors at his station. Armed with a semiautomatic pistol and tazer, he is also authorized to guard from harm.  
"System's in the green, Sir."  
"Mr. Dorn?"  
Frank Dorn, a twenty-five year old Milwaukee School of Engineering graduate, makes a few clicks of his mouse. He's responsible for both the environmental systems and IT.  
"Environmental controls at 100% and the temperature is 78 degrees, Mr. Wavell."  
Moose walks up to the viewing glass, folds his arms across his chest, and lets out a noticeable breath. What should have transpired seven months ago has finally come to fruition and he couldn't be more fucking pleased. Despite having his observation room ready for any "unknown's" use, he kept it on hold as Jules lay in dire straights and took advantage of the extra time for fine tuning. He wanted her to christen his personal creation. He lowers the condition from "Alpha", or "imminent danger", to "Charley" for the duration of her stay within the confines of curious eyes and technology so advanced, the boys of The Amateur Robotics Club would shit bricks.


	2. Rebirth (part two)

"Lorna, could you pass me the Tabasco please?"  
She walks over to Dana Burgo, commanding the security panel and enjoying several slices of thin crust sausage pizza. They eat quietly, keeping their sharp eyes on their designated monitors and glass-topped panels with ears open for Jules' speech. It's 2:25am CST.  
Lorna Cruz couldn't be more excited to be where she is. She initially focused her studies in Bioastronautics, but her summer stint in Nepal to collect insects at high altitudes changed her focus. Such insects would be viewed as "alien" to most due to their unique adaptation to the harsh environment. She immediately changed her studies that year and is responsible on discovering fifteen new insect species over the course of ten months in the Himalayas. Her specialty: behavioral and physical adaptation.  
Dana went to college to study law enforcement and had a number of jobs as a bouncer at local bars and concert venues. His ticket inside is his Uncle Robert Palmer, Head of Tactics at Site R. Having worked many jobs thru the midnight oil, this one is a no brainer, yet having never encountered an "unknown" makes him a little nervous.  
At every half hour mark, each station verbally gives a status report. The only station remaining quiet is Bruce's. The system's logged into two laptops at his temporary rental home, one acting as a backup, and for the first three nights he struggled to get any shut-eye. Terribly anxious she may awake while he's asleep has him on pins and needles. As the digital clock displays 6am, he rises to shower, makes a pot of coffee, drinks a cup, and fills the thermos with the rest.

Loki stands on his balcony with lavender tea in hand. His mind wanders through the distant Void above, eager to hear more of Jules' health. The right index finger circles clockwise along the ceramic lip, the rising steam graces his cool skin, and his eyes lock on a glow of soft ivory nestled within the glitter of black slate. Midgard, so far away yet so very close to his heart. Never in his lifetimes had he ever imagined to endure tender thoughts for Thor's domain. All because of one mortal whom saved his life, shared her unnatural gifts before his midnight blue eyes, and carried a stone his Father yearned to keep for himself.  
_'Safekeeping from the unseen enemy has always been your justification. Preposterous! I shall prove your casuistic scheme is erroneous!'_

As the sun breaks over the horizon, the interior full spectrum lights begin to slowly brighten her home but fails to bring her to rise. Overnight, she readjusted her position to lie on her left side, sharing her expressionless face to careful eyes behind the thick wired glass. Bruce pours himself a cup of coffee and quietly clicks thru the hourly readings. Jules lets out a stretch of her left arm and exhales.  
"Hmph.", Moose shares soon after.  
Bruce quickly looks up to view her and his heart begins to jog as he watches her body shift under his security blanket. With less than twenty minutes left of his shift, Dana readjusts to sit stiff and with his fingertips he taps the screen upon the table for a quick systems check.  
"System's in the green.", he blurts with urgency.  
"Temperature is 78 degrees. Enviro check is complete and functional at 100%", says Lorna.  
"Bruce?", asks Moose.  
Bruce takes another sip of his coffee, makes a few more passes of his fingertips on the glass top monitor, a click of his mouse to his laptop, and stands up for a better view.  
"As of 8pm, her readings have been consistent to show no physical movement and her health's in good condition. No physical motion until 5:34am and the present. Her heart rate is up, which leads me to believe she's finally awake."  
Moose taps a small silver rectangular container to remove a toothpick and begins to fiddle it between his lips. Oral fixation is his way to calm his nerves. Just then, Jules opens her eyes, squints hard, and blinks heavily.  
"Showtime, people.", Moose says with a hint of pride.  
Her narrowed eyes stare off into the distance of a gray haze as she stretches once more but with an audible yawn. The arms pull out from under the white comforter, clumsily rest upon the soft cotton, and her fingers curl in lightly to hold on. Ever so slowly, her brown eyes move across the ceiling for a sign or signal from God. She heard Him speak before and wonders where He is now. All these years she never believed in a specific God figure except to casually praise them based on ability. However, death softened her ideals to accept the possibility she's been wrong.  
"God?", she whispers.  
Lorna looks at Dana for his opinion, but he says nothing. Bruce narrows his brows. He knows her position on God.  
"Hello?"  
She looks down at the comforter and is surprised to see it in white with her naked pale arms in full view. A few graces of the skin confirms her body is solid. Her eyes examine the walls once more and discovers herself in a gray box.  
"I must be in a coffin.", she says with obvious disappointment.  
Her words bring a shrill up Lorna's spine and she noticeably shrugs. Moose spots Lorna's behavior and disregards it.  
Jules looks at her hands and stops silently, for The Empress holds her still. She presses the back of her right fingers against her quivering lips and tears easily escape her. Quietly, her eyes take in the beauty of the pink conch pearl and recalls a slick Bruce harnessing her naïve persona into believing the ring was for Laura. A giggle escapes her and she sits up to better appreciate the gift.  
"You buried me with your promises?!", and proceeds to cry out loud into her hands.  
"Excuse me for a moment.", Bruce says quickly and leaves the room. He paces the hallway five times, leans into the wall with eyes closed to clear the painful emotions, and returns to his position. Her cries over the speakers brings him to clear his throat. Lorna and Dana share a quick glance loaded with "What was THAT about?".  
Jules grabs a fistful of the soft comforter and presses it to her face to absorb the tears. She holds still, takes in three obvious deep breaths thru her nostrils and pulls away in shock. She wails loudly.  
"You buried me in your blanket?!", crying into the comforter.  
Both Lorna and Dana turn around and glance at Bruce. He's taken a seat and has his right palm against his face.  
"Let me guess. You tested the blanket on yourself.", Moose snips.  
His right hand flies away.  
"Believe me when I say I NEVER suspected she'd know I used it!" His eyes are wide with a look of surprise and Lorna responds eagerly to explain the science of smell.  
"It's a proven fact the female's sense of smell is much better than of men. Especially when it comes to sweat.", and she continues on with greater emphasis. "A woman can tell by the scent of the man's sweat if he's interested in her sexually ...".  
"THANK YOU, Lorna, for educating us on the human nose. Refocus, team.", Moose says coldly.

Every dinner, both Loki and Thor shared a meal in the dining hall in the accompaniment of their close bachelors and Sif. On occasion, Volstagg joins them to brag of their day of tender muscles, bruises, and favorable outcomes of war and hunt of wild boar. Loki's curiosity of Jules is too much and burns deep inside, for he had suffered from heartburn.  
"Brother. Any word on the ailing mortal who sleeps?"  
"Nay. Heimdall is to notify me if death takes her."  
"But what of her wake? Is he to tell you as well?"  
Thor chews at the rather large piece of potato and shares a curious grin.  
"What is this I feel from my brother? Has your heart fallen for this mortal whom sought to slaughter us?"  
"No! I only wish to hear that our presence was beneficial. That is all.", he argues and proceeds to chew at the wild smoked hen. Thor can't help but find his brother's behavior amusing. He chuckles and drops the conversation as he gulps down his mead.

Jules sleeps once more, facing the opposite direction with her body tucked into a fetal position. Everyone, but Moose, relaxes with lunches set upon their station table. Moose leaves, giving Jim and Frank to openly chat about random shit and Bruce updates Tony via text of her status.  
At 3:47pm, she sits up, stretches, and looks at the room ahead. Moose picks at the rear left molar with an able toothpick, closely eyeing her facial expressions and body language on his monitor. A sleuth of cameras are set on every wall and above, giving each station access to zoom into all areas of her room. She pulls the covers off her legs, attempts to stand but struggles with a lame right leg. The hairs on Bruce's arm rise at her discomfort. With her off the bed, he can't determine the amount of pain she's experiencing. She begins to crawl ahead to the small room jetting from the wall, peeks inside, and enters. The only camera for view is hooked up to Bruce's station. Moose stands behind Bruce to watch her approach the toilet and sits on her rump.  
"Now why in God's name would I need any of this?"  
Chewing on the stick, Moose lets out a quick snicker. Jules struggles to stand up, pulls her shorts down, and takes a seat back on the john. An urge to piss questions her situation, and the only way to prove God won't be coming is to piss away. The hot liquid leaves her and a strong odor of ammonia tells her she hasn't pissed in good while or had a decent drink of water.  
_'Something doesn't add up. Either I'm dead or I'm someone's bitch. Which is it?'_, she cautiously thinks to herself. The right leg is terribly sore at the hip, bringing her right hand to rub it. Unconsciously, healing's distributed and her leg is lame no more. She wipes herself, pulls up on the white shorts, and flushes the answer she doesn't want to see. She's alive and no one is coming for her.  
Standing under the door frame, she scans the gray room for details. She notes the smooth satin concrete floor, the glossy gray painted walls for the bathroom, and the outer walls and ceiling has a smooth luster. She turns right and walks along the walls, feeling the glassy surface with just the tips of her right hand, and slowly circles the room. Her eyes lock to the floor as she allows her tactile focus search out discrepancies on the walls. Jim has a hunch what she searches for, exciting him with a raring to go stance. At the 6:15pm mark, Moose asks for a verbal status check.  
"System's in the green, sir. But I'd like to share an observation, if I may?", says Jim.  
"Share away."  
"I believe she's searching for a door, sir."  
"Hmph.", exhales Moose. "Mr. Dorn?"  
"Temperature holds at 78 degrees. Recycler's at 100%. Her first meal is ready for delivery."  
"How do you feel about Mr. Hunter's opinion?", asks Moose.  
"Considering the nature of these glass walls? She's not going to FIND an imperfection. It's practically perfection in the making. As for the door? Impossible to find. The gaps measure 7 micrometers. A fiber of cotton is 10 micrometers."  
"Dr. Banner. Your assessment?"  
"Boredom.", he says in a dull tone. All three turn to look at him. "She behaves much like an animal locked in a cage with no means of enrichment. She's been pacing for nearly three hours straight."  
Moose looks at Jules and lets out a "Hmph." Five minutes later, both Lorna and Dana enter Observations to relieve Jim and Frank. Verbal exchanges take place between the four and a recap of their system check is discussed. Bruce heads out to the restroom and then to Vendoland for coffee, for his thermos had run dry. Moose packs up his briefcase, exchanges light dialogue with his team, and leaves for the day.

Loki observes the heavily dressed metallurgist pour molten steel into a mold designed by himself with a smile now reaching to his ears. The radiating heat wraps him, as he verbally lays a spell upon the yellow glow. The hot steel flashes blue-green, as it heats quickly in a second to infuse the magic, and slowly begins to cool to a dark silver metal. The blacksmith picks up the four-inch long blade and pounds away at his anvil, humming to a tune to match that of his movements. Sparks of blue fly at each strike and he heats it to an orange hue every two minutes. In the end, an exquisite six-inch dagger's produced. An engraver takes it, lays an intricate design of lines as requested by the payee, and is then polished by Hilda. She polishes all the weapons on commission, for she has sight no other holds. Any imperfection can't escape her. By days end, he observes five pourings with five blades in completion. The total payout is equivalent to half a million dollars, but for Asgard it's in gold.  
In Loki's past two lives, he'd been nothing but a nightmare for King Odin. Every situation Loki created was like sending something to Hel in a handbasket. On his third return, Odin and Frigga set out strict guidelines for Loki's rearing and education with a future set to work in the Foundry. So far, his mischiefs have been mild and tolerable. As long as he keeps bringing wealth into Asgard through his labor within the Foundry, Odin's heart remain soft for his son.

As the first shift leaves and the sun sets to the west, the interior lights begin to dim slowly until it's dark altogether at 7:30pm. A soft white light glows along the corners of the bathroom floor and the main room is dark. Jules continues to pace the floor, passing the cold turkey sandwich on white bread, two chocolate chip cookies, and a cup of water sitting on the floor inside a clear box against the corner of the room. The appearance of food shocked her at first. It's introduced as she paced the opposite side of the room. She only stood over it briefly and continued her walk. Yet inside, she was screaming. Angry and emotionally hurt, she questioned why God would allow a dead person to feed and piss. Why suffer in death as if alive?  
_'Truly, this must be Purgatory. Limboland. I'm not dead but should be. No one could survive a fall as high as ...'._  
She stops dead in her tracks.  
"Wait a minute.", she says a loud.  
All three look at her with Bruce rubbing his chin, watching her face closely in detail. Her eyes shift side to side as she recalls Lori leaping to her death. A frown comes on strong, turns left to lean her back against the wall, and slowly slides down to sit.  
_'I'm not dead nor alive. Which is it? If I had to flip a coin, I'd bet it'd land on "living". This feels all too real. And the meal?'_  
She crawls to the food, lifts the sandwich, smells it, pulls it apart, and does the same to the cookies. The water she smells and sips. She returns the cup, feels the interior wall of the box for a mechanism to close it, and eventually crawls to the bed in greater confusion. With the comforter wrapped around her shoulders, she stands and continues her counterclockwise walk around the room. Left hand holds the soft embrace at heart level and the tips of her right fingers glide on the smooth walls. She stops to adjust the comforter, for it drags heavily behind her. The drag's eliminated by creating a hood over her head and her face is all but hidden as she continues her walk. Bruce runs a physical diagnosis and reports it verbally to the team with much pride, for her wearing it outside of bed has made his invention more valuable. Her readings also brings a sense of attachment and comfort. Symbolically, he views himself consoling her through his creation. He lets out a few chuckles.  
"What is it, Dr. Banner?", asks Lorna.  
"I just find it comical she'd carry the blanket, like so. I never imagined she would wear it during my trials.", ending in a few more chuckles.  
"How late do you plan on staying, Dr. Banner?", asks Dana.  
"Why? Are you kicking me out?", he smirks.  
"Nah. Just curious.", and turns to look at his monitor. "How much longer should we allow the food to sit?"  
"When she reaches the bathroom wall, pull it."  
Lorna pulls up several small screens on her monitor and taps an orange box with her index finger to activate the box to retract. Hearing the box move, Jules drops the blanket and makes a wild dash in the darkness for it.  
"Whoa!", blurts Dana, as he watches her sprint in lime green across the room on his monitor. She can barely be seen through the glass but the night vision has her spot on. A low thud is heard as she runs into the unseen wall, followed with a long groan.  
"Oooh. That's going to leave a mark.", jokes Dana as he makes a quick assessment of the containment system. Lorna's fingers also fly as she checks the air pressure and currents for possible breaches. They both verbally share their findings, just as they were trained in simulation training, and Bruce watches her chest rise and fall from her listless body, crumpled on the floor just three feet shy from the corner.  
"I think I'll be crashing here for the night.", Bruce sighs. "Coffee, anyone?"

9:24pm. Light movement's carried in the still air, bringing all three to focus ahead. Jules props herself up in a long moan and the night vision observes her rubbing her forehead.  
"Fuckers.", she mumbles and stands up. She follows the wall, locates the comforter, drags it to the bed, and lies down. As she lies still, Dana turns to Bruce.  
"I think her reference to "Fuckers" was directed to her belief.", pointing up to the ceiling. "Yet ...I can't help to think she may know she's very much alive."  
"If I saw food offered in my cell? I'd believe I'm alive.", says Lorna.  
"She's independent, terribly stubborn, and her inner confidence is poor. But put her in a box with little to go by? Her keen perception and sensitivity to her surroundings will lead her to the truth."  
"And what's the truth?", asks Dana.  
"Us. What she's feared all her life has come to fruition. Becoming a guinea pig. People like us wanting her to disclose her abilities behind closed doors. Or glass, in her case."  
Both Lorna and Dana sit quietly, looking at each other with dumbfounded faces.  
"How long did Mr. Wavell say you'd be working here?", asks Bruce to Dana.  
"Four weeks? Maybe six?", looking at Lorna for confirmation, which she nods in agreement.  
"Better plan on doubling it, unless he has something else in mind to squeeze it out of her.", and finishes his coffee. "She's in tip-top shape and her readings tells me she's in dreamland. On that note, I'm going home for a little shut-eye. Don't hesitate to call me if she starts running into walls again."  
"What?", asks Dana in worry.  
"She won't be running into any walls.", Bruce smiles as he packs up his things. "But if she does?", he ends with his hand symbolizing 'call me' next to his ear as he walks out.  
The top of the hour comes and goes with each verbally noting a system status check. Lorna couldn't resist to ask Dana for his opinion on Jules and Bruce.  
"I bet they were engaged.", nodding her head in a strong agreement.  
"Nah. Probably hooked up at one time or another. Like, you know. Workplace romance. Friends with benefits.", he says.  
"No way. Have you seen that ring? I looked it up. It's a Mikimoto called The Empress. Take a wild guess on what he spent!", she says excitedly.  
"Um. I'm not into jewelry, so I wouldn't have a clue."  
"Oh, c'mon! Take a guess!", she says, clapping her hands together.  
"Five grand."  
"No! Sixty-five thousand!", she nearly squeals.  
Dana's lower jaw falls open and Lorna laughs at his expression. "I've never heard of anyone in a friends with benefits relationship spending that much money on a ring!"  
"Maybe it's a tax write-off.", jokes Dana.

Morning arrived with everyone posed and ready for action. All but Jules was up and at it. Bruce cautiously filters through the hourly overnight readings for signs of trouble. Worries she may have injured herself with a concussion from her run-in brings a cold sweat to build upon his forehead. Despite what he reads holds true and correct, he sits nervously and slightly slouched to his right. Fingertips fire away upon the glass table, double checking all his fancy equipment had to offer. Moose sits at his desk, sifts through his emails and watches Bruce's behavior out of the corner of his right eye.  
"Do you have something to share, Dr. Banner?"  
"No."  
"Then why are you unsettled?"  
Bruce scratches the back of his head with his right hand, followed with a loud yawn and a stretch.  
"Concerns of a concussion. Reinjury. It's what, 8:58am, and she's still sleeping." Silence lurks the room and Bruce breaks it. "What's the protocol if she doesn't wake up by 9pm?"  
"And why 9pm?", asks Moose.  
"She would be asleep for 24 hours straight. 12 is much, as is 18 hours. He readings state she's asleep, but there could be underlying issues the equipment cannot detect."  
"Like?"  
"Internal bleeding."  
"She's a healer.", staring Bruce down. "NO ONE is to enter her domain under any circumstance without my grant. I know what you're thinking, Dr. Banner. The answer is NO."

10:23am. She rises out of bed without her blanket and enters the bathroom for a quick piss. Bruce watches her slouch over as she relaxes on the toilet, hands draped over her knees, and follows up with a quick eye rub. The bump on her forehead is long gone, as well as the tender bruises from last night's collision. Much like every morning, she begins her daily routine by securing Bruce's scent around her body.

_'Are you willing to carry this burden, Jules Harper?'_  
"What the Hell?", she says under her breath, looking up at the ceiling for a sign.  
A male voice resonates in her head, as she paces the room in a clockwise pattern. His question comes at odd intervals and it's not a voice she's familiar with. Never does she answer, out of fear the question belongs to a man behind the gray walls. Despite the deafening silence, she's becoming accustomed to her new life and feels a sense of security under Bruce's scent. Breakfast consisting of a plain bagel and veggie cream cheese with hot green tea is served, as she approaches the far wall. She accepts the tea, walking along the walls and savoring the aroma. Second shift leaves with the first shift taking their respectful seats, verbally sharing the hourly system status to Moose. Bruce watches her body temp rise two tenths of a degree each time she take a sip and this brings him to smile. All his hard work into the development of a medical sensory comforter is paying off. The empty cup she returns into the box, and as she sat to relieve herself, the box retracts.  
_'Figures as much.'_, as she wipes herself clean.  
She turns on the shower, enters it with her shorts and tank top, and washes down with the bar of soap. The shorts come off first for a wash and then the top. She steps out of the shower to set them on the edge of the sink to drip dry and returns for a final soak. The dial turns to hot with the water pelting the shoulders of her back. An agreeable moan leaves her, bringing Bruce to shift and cross his left leg over his right. With no shower door or curtain to obstruct her body, he fights the temptations of pleasure to blur his concentration.  
_'Damn it, Jules! Hurry it up!'_, he says within as she stands still with hands clasped to her chest.  
"How are we looking on the water, Mr. Dorn?", asks Moose.  
"Environmental controls at 100%. The temperature is 79 degrees with a humidity increase by 4%. The recycler is keeping up with the output, but the hot water will be out in six minutes."  
"Kill the shower. I think she's had her fun."  
"Yes sir."  
The water shuts off, leading Jules to turn around and inspect the head and dial. She doesn't complain until she realizes there's no towel to dry herself off.  
"You provide me with a shower but no bath towel? That's like having a toilet but no toilet paper to wipe myself with, you moron!", she yells up to the ceiling.  
Everyone laughs but Moose.  
"You're lucky I even provided you with toilet paper.", he notes in a callous tone.  
Bruce's heart skips a beat as she exits the bathroom wet and bare skinned, assuming she'd begin pacing in the nude to dry off. Instead, she grabs his scent and wraps herself in him before she resumes her daily behavior.

Lunch is a bowl of chicken noodle, four saltines, and a cup of water. Her stomach growls at the smell of sustenance, but she hisses at the angry belly. If she doesn't know who's serving her, she won't eat. The hot tea she makes an exception, for not only was she thirsty but has a weakness for it.  
_'Funny. God knows me too well.'_  
The security blanket comforts her as she continues her trek around the room. Few hours later, the box retracts, she makes a mad dash for the corner, and fully investigates the wall. Her fingers glide slowly, meticulously, and with her fingernails she scrapes in search for the lip of the door to the wall. Moose smiles, props his feet up on his desk, and bites into his deli sandwich. Butt naked, she bends down to yell at the wall.  
"Garcòn! Hot tea, por favor!"  
As she walks back to retrieve her blanket, Moose whistles like a man out to grab a piece meat. Bruce takes in a slow deep breath, exhales with his eyes closed, and shares his displeasure in a professional tone.  
"I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your personal opinions of my girlfriend to yourself."  
Both Frank and Jim look at each other with grins and raised eyebrows. Moose responds with a smile and another bite of his roast beef sandwich.

Thor, bored to his wits of watching Marcus train a particular defensive battle move with a group of new recruits, takes his horse to see Heimdall for an update on the mortal and his lover, Rachel.  
"Greetings, God of Thunder! I have not called for you."  
"And I am thankful for it. How does she fare?"  
"Which one?"  
"The one who sleeps."  
"Jules is awake, aware, and very angry. Your Rachel is well. Busy with mundane technology as always. All work and little play, your lady.", resting both hands above the handle and the tip of the sword balances on the surface of gold.  
"Awake?"  
"Aye!", Heimdall responds with a strong nod.  
"Angry? Why?"  
"She is imprisoned, my Liège. She is not yet aware of such, only to scold profanities at God. She believes she is dead and awaits in Purgatory.", he ends in a chuckle.  
"Imprisonment? Purgatory? Mortals do have an affinity to punish self with Demons. Something I never can understand.", Thor says with a touch of sass. "Why imprisonment?"  
"To show her powers. The mortals want to see it for themselves. Midgardians fear her, Thor. They fear what they do not understand. Much like you.", smiling at Thor.

Dinner of meatloaf, rice pilaf, and carrots fills the air and her stomach angers forth loudly. She only removes the hot tea and sips it around the room. As the sun sets, the lights begin to dim. As Lorna and Dana settle in, the lights turn off. Frank whispers to Lorna.  
"Bruce and Jules? GF/BF. He said so today."  
Lorna's eyes light up.  
"Not engaged?", she whispers back.  
Frank nods "no".  
Too dark to see her way around comfortably, she checks on the top and shorts to finds them dry and stiff as boards. A couple hard flaps of the outfit, she dresses and heads to bed. The plastic cup, still holding tea, she sets down next to her pillow. With hands behind her head, she stares off to the ceiling with glorious thoughts of escape.  
_'Are you willing to carry this burden, Jules Harper?'_, says the male voice within.  
"What if I decide not to?", she asks out loud.  
All four in the Observation Room look at each other with questionable eyes. With no response, she asks again but with a touch of her personal opinion to a growing displeasure of his repetitive question.  
"What if I take whatever burden you're referring to and shove it up your ass?"  
"Who's she talking to?", asks Lorna.  
"Shhh!", quips Moose.  
With nothing more said, Bruce shares the only logical answer which makes sense.  
"God."

With both Bruce and Mr. Wavell gone home, Lorna and Dana drop their guard to relax. Dana pulls out a deck of cards.  
"Euchre, poker, war, or go fish?", smiling with his teeth.  
Lorna's eyes light up, thankful she's partnered up with a similar free-spirited mind, and responds "War" with glee. Dana glances at the monitor in fuzzy green, constantly noting Jules sleeping position. With seven lives left to her name, Jules sleeps quietly as the mice play.


	3. Rebirth (part three)

For ten days straight, Jules paced the wall like a bored cougar starving for a kill. Every other day, she changed direction to break the monotony to allow the other hand to seek answers. It amazes her just how smooth the walls are. Not a scratch, dent, or indication of a possible opening can be felt on her fingertips. Yet someone beyond the gray walls insists she feeds for the box appears with food on a cycle. Her meals she left untouched but always drank the hot black tea delivered at each offering.  
Sensory deprivation was driving her mad, for within the bland gray box there was nothing to hear but her heart beat, her breath, and the random male voice whom repeatedly asked the same old question. She occasionally responded out loud with a smart remark.  
"Shut the fuck up!"  
"Leave me alone!"  
"Get out!"  
But on all other counts she shrugged his question, ignoring him, and deliberately hummed random tunes to avoid his voice. Her verbal outbursts would bring the hairs to stand at attention on every man but Moose. He'd dig the wood between the valley of his gums and massage it, tenderize it, and express a low "hmm" by doing so.  
Her pace is noticeably slower today with an increase in heart rate, blipping on the monitor in an orange heart. Bruce suspects her muscles are beginning to tire due to her starvation and this concerns him.  
"We need the Dietitian to add sugar to her tea for lunch.", he tells Moose and does so with a quick call.  
Jules hears the box slide forth, spreading an aroma of buttered potatoes, leeks, and chicken tenders. She picks up the hot tea and takes a sip.  
"Sugar.", she says quietly and continues to sip. The sugar triggers a little boost of confidence, flows through her with happier memories of yesterdays, but does nothing to improve her pace. Bruce sighs out of relief she doesn't refuse it.  
_'Someone or something behind the wall knew I needed the sugar.'_  
Her body exhausted and hungry, she leans into the back wall to finish her tea and glares at the open box. Both hands grip the warm cup against the center of her chest and she frowns at the possibilities: Purgatory or imprisonment. Either isn't favorable, but she wishes death over being captured alive for there's nothing worse than not knowing what your captor has planned.  
"God?", she asks aloud, just once more. Desperate for his voice. Desperate to confirm she's dead. A heavy sigh leaves her, disappointment blankets all hope of a Savior to remove her from the coffin, and sadly she heads back to return the cup. She crouches down and yells into the box for her own comic relief.  
"Thank you Nurse!"  
Amused, Bruce rubs his head.

An hour later, the box retracts and she lets out a sigh.  
_'Are you willing to carry this burden, Jules Harper?'_, says the man in her head. She stops at the far left corner of the Observation Room's wall, leans her body into the crevice, and struggles to hold up her body.  
"Yes.", she says, giving in, for she's grown tired of his nagging request. "Fine. Yes. Whatever.", with shoulders shrugged heavily and head down. She remains still, waiting for something to occur, but the air in the room lays silent. Everyone on the other side of the wall holds still, waiting for her to do or say something more.  
_'Listen.'_, says the man.  
"Listen to what?", she asks.  
_'To the walls.'_  
"I must be losing my mind.", shaking her head. "Do you enjoy torturing me? Do you?! You fucking sadist!", she yells in the end and continues her walk with clenched fists.  
Moose looks at Bruce for input on whom she speaks to.  
"Jules isn't a believer in God. Yet, she clearly is speaking to Him. I know, for she once told me God is a sadist."  
Moose finds her lack of a religious belief humorous and laughs, for he's a full-blown Atheist. He taps out a new toothpick from the silver container and chews away as she slowly passes to the right with her fingertips sliding along the wall at waist level.  
_'Listen.'_, he says.  
_'All I can hear is your voice. There's NOTHING ELSE to LISTEN to!'_, she argues within.  
_'To the walls.'_  
_'Yeah, yeah, yeah. Listen to the walls. I'm listening. Listening. Fucking silence!'_  
She drops her head low, and the comforter covering her head and body suggests a hint of Death without the sickle. A knot forms in Bruce's gut as she paces away, for her heart rate and body temp rose slightly. As the lights dim, she immediately lays down to rest. Her predictable nature brings her to lie on her right, tucks her hands under the pillow, and her knees rest close to her chest. Bruce runs a full body scan, due to her elevated body temperature by two degrees and holding. Finding nothing wrong, he orders a chem analysis on her last urine. A low level of ketones, due to fat conversion to energy, and a high electrolyte imbalance tells him she's hungry and dehydrated. He sends an email to the Dietitian and leaves a voice mail message as a backup with recommendations for tomorrow's meal and drinks.

A lick of the thumb helps to grip the age old paper to flip it, and the long thin fingers then press down at the center of the book. A beautiful hand drawn illustration in colored ink depicts an Alchemist working with five elements for an autoclave spell. An order for two thousand four-inch long icicle-like spear heads had come in with a specific request it be made with pure silver. The only guarantee the end product will be one hundred percent pure is with magic, and dully noted, Loki writes the formula upon parchment paper. The sepia ink flows fluidly, much like his hands. For an Engineer, his handwriting is meticulous and the energy in his cursive strokes can be felt without reading his words. As he secures the inkwell, he takes pause to focus on an unusual swirl of strength outside of his heart. With his body still, his eyes rise and slowly looks about the study. The experience suddenly ends but he continues to seek it. To bed, he lies in a short evergreen silk skirt and searches for the unusual tug upon his heart but finds nothing. Exhausted, he pulls the light brown pelt over his smooth, lean body and falls fast asleep.

At 4:46am, Bruce awakens to his laptop chiming loudly for attention. He scrambles out of bed, makes several clicks of his mouse to acknowledge, and picks up his cell phone.  
"Operations. Dana Burgo."  
"Her status?"  
Surprised to hear Bruce on the line, he whispers "Bruce" to Lorna and she quickly pulls up the live feed from six main cams and quietly reads out the air temp and quality, pressurization, water conditions, and power supply.  
"System's in the green on my end. Lorna is giving me a thumbs up."  
"She still asleep? Any excessive movements? Noises?", Bruce asks as he continues to read her last hourly physical logs.  
"She hasn't moved or peeped. Is there something wrong?"  
"She broke a fever just short of a hundred and two degrees. I'm leaving now, but if she behaves out of the norm before I get there? Call me."

The lights brighten along with the sunrise, but Jules remain fast asleep. The comforter picks up an increase of perspiration, noting a lack of potassium, calcium, sodium, and magnesium. Worried of severe dehydration, he ensures unflavored electrolyte water is used in her morning tea. The first shift arrives with coffee in hand and polite exchanges soon follow. Moose arrives no later with a bag of pretzel sticks and passes it around to share. Bruce waves his hand to pass and provides an update on her health and his concerns for the day. Moose types away at his keyboard for a medical crew to remain on standby and urges everyone to watch her carefully for any subtle changes in behavior.  
The Empress swivels easily upon the ring finger, as she stands and adjusts the comforter over her head and back. At 10:43 am, she slowly marches along the wall in the same counterclockwise direction as yesterday with her right fingers along the wall to guide her. Breakfast was delivered, which she only removed the hot tea and leaves the two slices of toasted wheat with grape jam for her viewing pleasure. Noting her leg muscles tighter than usual and making her walks uncomfortable, she slowly paces with a gentle use of magic. Floating just enough above the floor to kill gravity and ease the stress in her legs, the soles of her feet land upon the concrete floor but ever so gently. Of the four, Jim takes notice of her unique locomotion. He zooms into her feet and lets out a noticable gasp. Moose looks his way.  
"Mr. Hunter?"  
"She's not walking, sir."  
Moose zooms into her feet and notices her smooth gliding motion.  
"Nice find, Mr. Hunter. Dr. Banner? How's she holding?"  
Bruce was already reading her logs before Moose could ask.  
"Body temp is steady at one hundred two point seven degrees. Electrolytes up a nudge after her tea, but not nearly enough. I recommend we offer her tea every hour with the unflavored electrolyte solution. A cookie or chocolate can't hurt, either. She's dehydrated, so fluids are in order."  
"About her not walking. Your assessment?"  
Bruce pauses to watch her on his monitor, now noticing her gliding feet and determines two possible factors.  
"Her muscles are likely tired. Probably sore due to a lack of carbs, potassium, sodium, iron, and water.  
Or, she's conserving energy."  
"Boys? Looks like we're beginning to get a taste of what she's capable of. I have a med team on standby, just incase she falls apart on us. Let's remain extra vigilant, for her self-inflicted punishment may bring her to bloom for us today."

The heat of molten steel brings the energy to embrace the brown leathering upon his body, yet moments after the pour he notices his body still warm. A trickle of sweat escapes his forehead and races off the left eyebrow.  
"Odd.", Loki mumbles as he wipes his sweat away. He toys the water between his right fingertips in deep wonder. He never sweats from the heat of the Foundry.  
"Huron. Please take over my duties for the day. My health is suddenly poor.", and walks back to his office. He sits down, allows the heat to hold him and the sweat to leave his skin.  
"What is this I feel?"  
With eyes narrowed, he focuses on the unusual strength swirling in his chest.

Jules hears the man in her head command her to listen once more, and her frustration brings her to break down in tears. She sobs quietly, her face obscured by Bruce's scent, and barely allows the tips of her fingers to embrace the wall. She believes the man had led her to fall ill with delirium and a fever.  
Bruce's right fingertips press against the special cotton fiber and polyester blend of his slacks as he wrestles with his emotions from exploding forth, for behind the flesh he's angry with himself, with his employer, and all else holding his love against her wishes. As her sniffles carry into the room, his chest tightens much like someone squeezing the shit out of a stress ball.  
_'Easy. Easy. Shhhh.'_  
He takes a long drink out of his coffee cup, closes his eyes with long deep breaths to relax, and refocus his mind to decide how to increase her physical strength. Another cup of hot tea is delivered at the top of the hour and she gladly accepts.  
Two hours of meaningless passes, feeling up the walls like a desperate pervert craving for gratification, a gentle sound finally comes to her. Random soft emotions in words or broken thoughts skirt her mind like Scrabble letters needlessly strewn about. None of it makes any sense. As she leaves the Operations wall for the next, the emotions also leave and the quiet returns. Eyes larger, she looks at her right hand and takes notice to her finger position and light touch of the surface. When she returns to the same wall, random soft emotional whispers skirt her mind in a tizzy. For another full hour she makes her pass, circles, returns, and carefully listens to the wall. Once again, she's greeted by a cup of hot tea. She accepts the offering and remains in place to drink it fully with questions to these voices.  
"You asked me to listen. I'm listening.", she says into her cup.  
With nothing said by her stranger, she returns the cup into the box and begins her trek once more but with purpose. Her feet moves in slow motion, gracefully tiptoeing across the gray floor. Moose walks to the window for a close look and folds his arms as she noticeably floats in slow motion. Bruce stands, mesmerized by her movement, yet curious to her reasons for her to move in such a manner. Jim's in a slight state of shock, for the God-fearing man had never witnessed such behavior or would he ever believe it would be possible to defy gravity without a mechanism. Frank smiles at the wonder before him and quietly blurts out a comment.  
"That's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."  
As she approaches Moose's position, a tingle enters her fingers. It travels up her hand, to her shoulders, and ever so gently nudges her chest. She slows to a crawl yet still appearing as if her legs move her forward in exceptionally reduced time. Bruce watches her hand rise as she passes and then fall to hip level. His heart races, for he has an idea what she's after.  
"What do you make of this, Dr. Banner?", turning around to view him.  
"Creative movement." He jokes inside but delivers his answer in a serious tone.  
"Her movement is so fluid, like a ballerina or an angel floating by. Just the slow movements alone is difficult to comprehend. Just amazing!", says Frank with much enthusiasm.  
"Mr. Hunter?"  
"Her hands. Something about her hands, sir. It's as if ... I think she's looking for something more than a door.", he says with concern.  
"What about you?", Bruce asks Moose.  
Moose watches Jules make her way down the left wall, taps out a toothpick, and smiles.  
"She's looking for the door."  
As Jules turns left, she feels the tingle in her hand at waist level and stops right in front of Moose. He fiddles with the wood between his lips and watches her fingers glide up to his crotch, to his belly, and stops at chest level. Appearing as if she was touching him seductively, he makes a critical error and allows his emotions to sway. Turned on by the visuals, she picks up his energy. Finger tips lightly pressed against the glass in perfect distance between the anti-magic wiring, his lustful emotions seep through. With her head forward and slightly down, she slowly turns ninety degrees to the right and up to view her hands. The comforter falls, as she releases her grip, and her large brown eyes stare at his direction. Anger rages forth inside, filling her chest with a heat she's never experienced before. She KNOWS. She RECOGNIZED. The man in her head was literally begging, pleading her to listen and she did.  
The answer is now before her very eyes in a blind of gray, for behind the coffin wall stands a man she despises. Commander Michael Wavell of BlackOps-D.  
Realizing her body language meant more than her searching for the door, Moose immediately straightens himself and shuts down his mind. Sensing his response, a slow smile rises into the left corner of her mouth. Eyebrows relax and her eyes narrow upon her spread eagle fingers.  
"Shit.", he whispers.  
He slowly removes the toothpick from his lips. The testosterone-filled room falls silent, as the men await her next move. Her right hand slowly converts to her flipping Moose the bird and Bruce breaks out into an uncontrollable giggle. She holds her opinion in place for ten glorious seconds as Moose narrows his brows in disgust. Feeling satisfactory of her message, she proceeds to pick up her security blanket, walks to the bed, sits cross-legged facing their wall with an enraged face, and wraps the comforter around her. Frank watches Bruce in amusement and follow with laughter, watching him wipe the tears of joy from his eyes. Jim clears his throat, sensing Moose is not at all pleased with her disrespectful behavior. She made it very clear she knows who holds her.  
Bruce responds to the chiming of three separate warning notes on his station monitor with a reduced chuckle, but that soon washes away in shock.  
"Jesus Christ! Her body temperature is one hundred and eighteen degrees!"  
Moose shoots Frank a look.  
"Room temperature has risen by four degrees. Its eighty-two. No? Now eighty-three. Environmental system at one hundred percent."  
"It's holding at one hundred and eighteen, but how?!", Bruce argues with himself. "She'll be dead in minutes!", noting both temperature readings agree from his bed covering and the mattress.  
Her innards were ablaze, reminiscent of Thai chili spices burning her stomach lining and sitting in a hot tub for too long. Sweat drips profusely from her head, runs down her neck, and the tank top soaks what it can. His blanket registers the high moisture upon the cotton, sending a red lined notification upon his monitor to warn of likely organ failure. A combination of severe fever and absolute dehydration brings Bruce to rest his elbows on the glass table and grab the sides of his head. Agony grips him. Certain death terrifies him. He's nearly in tears.  
"I don't know what to do.", he shares quietly, but Moose heard him well.  
Her resentful stare is unnerving to Jim and causes him to readjust his posture as if ready to defend his crew. He shakes his head, clearly expressing fear in his eyes as he looks to Frank for support. Frank only pays attention to his station, verbally noting the changes in air temp, humidity, and pressure.  
"The electrical room just below her position is picking up a rise in heat by five degrees. Cooling fans are now online. Seven additional degrees and we may have an issue, sir."  
"I guess I was wrong", Moose responds nonchalantly. "She wasn't looking for a way out. She was looking for us.", returning the toothpick to his lips and responds to Jules anger with a sinister smile.

Loki calls forth a Healing Elder, out of concern he may have spoiled himself with improper magic. The Elder stands behind him and holds his left hand encrusted in a jeweled glove over the center of his back. His eyebrows rise out of surprise and rests his hand upon Loki's right shoulder.  
"Are you aware your heart lies with another?"  
"Pardon?"  
"You weep when she weeps. You suffer when she suffers. You are not aware?", puzzled that Loki truly doesn't know, for the Elder is an Empath and senses Loki speaks the truth.  
"I do not share my heart with anyone. Nor have I shared my bed in countless suns! Are you certain this is not dark magic or my own doing?"  
"Oh, most certain!", the Elder laughs. "This is of a woman. Strange you do not know of her."  
Loki's first guess was his daughter Hela, playing a game out of spite, but the Elder would've known and shared such.  
"Remedy?", Loki demands.  
"None I can offer. She must care for herself or you suffer with. Just to note? This woman is not lame nor ailing, Sire. She's ill-tempered.", patting Loki's shoulder with a chortle and leaves him to be, alone in his office with a dumbfounded look.

Pizza's were ordered for lunch as Moose's way to celebrate a breakthrough in Jules' unknown status. Harboring an ability to heal, defy gravity, and radiate heat which would fry a Human brain in minutes proves she's not one of them. Bruce notes her body temperature verbally every three minutes and by 4pm, her core temp begins to drop.  
Her body tires quickly, having used a lot of energy to sit angrily and stare at the man behind the wall whom forced a job she didn't want down her throat. With eyes moving down to the white comforter, she frets. Year upon year, men in black attire and heavily armed chased her in her dreams. The end result now sits around her with Moose the predator holding her captive. The job offer at Raven Rock was clearly a scam! He never intended to send her there! Caught in a web of lies, she now realizes her decision to end her life only made life's drama stickier. Messier.  
_'I'm an idiot. So stupid! I should've ran!'_  
A clear memory of events unfold upon the screen of her closed eyelids. Her desperate words to Bruce and his agony of screams bleed out in emotions, gripping the comforter tight ...holding on for dear life.  
"I lost the fight. I failed to die.", she shares solemnly to her captor behind the gray wall. "I should've known better than to end it. I couldn't kill myself then. Some unknown force stopped me. And here I am, once again, not dead. Alive. In your hands."  
The men all sit idle with pizza in hand with light conversations afloat, but her words end it.  
"There is no God, is there?", she whispers.  
"Shhhh! Quiet!", Moose quips to everyone.  
"But there must be something, someone. Why? Why is it? How is any of this possible? I only asked a simple request. Much like the cliff, you continue to torture me with life. Why? Why won't you let me die!?", she shares at the wall ahead with a slight right tilt of her head and droopy eyes. "What do you want from me?"  
She remains quiet with eyes now resting on the soft white cotton. When her temp reaches ninety-nine degrees, her body slumps to the left. Passed out on his bed, Bruce's fingers dance across the glass to get manual readings taken. Within five minutes, he determines she rests and exhales loudly in relief.  
"She's sleeping. Her vitals are stable but she's close to critical dehydration. Body temp's at ninety-eight degrees."  
He can't shake her words from his mind. She clearly meant to die that night.

Silence fills the air once more, for everyone had their fill of greasy food. Moose begins to type away, sending a message for Rose to make a visit tomorrow at 8am for her first assessment. As for Jules, the evening meal delivered a warm scent of turkey slices, seasoned potatoes, and corn. She refuses, readjusts her body, and tucks under his comfort. A deep valley appears along her heart. Grasping the edge of his creation, she takes in a deep whiff of his scent, closes her eyes, and allows her heart to leap forward. Free falling in her depressed state, jagged granite passes her by and soon her body's greeted in darkness. Asleep once more, the lights within her gray coffin have dimmed out to end the day. Lorna pulls the box of untouched food and cold tea with Bruce scratching his head in troubled thought. Her lack of appetite and mental state is very worrisome.  
"She's giving up hope. Now that she knows." He presses his open hands upon his face and pulls them down with an open sigh. "I'm going to crash here for the night."

Despite sleeping well through the night for the heat had left him, Loki couldn't resist a visit to Heimdall for verification on the ailing mortal. Upon his horse and across the Bifrost, his mind begins to speculate whether it was Jules Harper afflicting him. Heimdall offered nothing to appease his curiosity, except to say, "She is well and awake."

Bruce slept in his chair with his dark gray and maroon argyle socked feet crossed upon his station. Lorna and Dana remain quiet and focused, but the quiet crawls under their skin and irritates the shit out of them. Dana pulls out the deck of cards, flashes them under his table with a smile stretched from ear to ear, and Lorna returns a fist pump of excited approval. Fourty minutes into their game of Rummy, Lorna casually reviews the monitor and leans in. Sensing something wrong, Dana leans into his and begins to click away to span the variety of cameras set at night vision. Lorna stands up and looks at the dark empty room.  
"Maybe she's in the bathroom?", she whispers.  
Dana nods, moves to Bruce's station, and pulls up the cam. He begins to breathe hard and nods "no".  
"What?", she worries and runs a system check.  
"Dr. Banner?"  
Dana shakes Bruce's right shoulder and he looks at the man's worried face. He sits up fast, mumbles something, and runs a med diagnosis check.  
"She's out of our vision, Dr. Banner.", shares Dana.  
Bruce squints at his side monitor set in night vision mode.  
"Where is she?", Lorna asks.  
"System's in the green.", says Dana, back in his seat and raring to go.  
"Environmentals at one hundred percent. Temperature is seventy-eight degrees."  
"The motion sensors are online, but it's not picking up movement. Clearly she's moved. I'm not understanding how.", says Dana in a worried tone.  
Bruce quickly leaves his chair, approaches the right wall panel near the main viewing glass window, and sets it to infrared. Lorna hollers and Dana nearly jumps out of his seat. Nearly dead center floats Jules with both hands upon the wall in a red glow. Invisible to the naked eye, her body heat cannot hide from technology. Her head rests down as she focuses on the emotions resting behind it.  
"Clear your minds! Clear your emotions!", Bruce hollers in a whisper. "She's an Empath!"  
Jules slowly adjusts her fingertips to get a reading, but all she picks up are fleeting emotions. They come and go too quickly to determine who watches her. Out of sight, she hovers motionless in her tank top and shorts with her hairs sheltering her face. Like a ghost, she floats to her left to locate emotions hidden from her and stops once more.  
"Please let me go.", she says in a somber voice.  
Bruce swallows hard. Lorna looks to him for advice and he puts his index finger up to his lips.  
"I surrender. I'll work at Raven Rock or do whatever you'd like. It's just that the silence is killing me. I can't stand it!"  
She adjusts her fingertips once more to feel nothing.  
"If you could pass along a message to Dr. Bruce Banner? Please tell him I'm sorry for my actions."  
She quietly sobs in place, waiting for an emotional response, and her tears fall directly below to the floor. Bruce brings his right fist to his mouth, sheltering it to keep from responding back.  
"I failed to accept the truth and allowed my fears to dictate my fate. I'm in your hands, now. Do as you wish. I don't care anymore. Please? I'll do whatever you want."  
He wrangles his emotions hard, but each whimper from her quivering lips pulls away the stitching that holds his emotions in check. Slowly, his heart caves in and unconsciously he walks up to the window. Like two magnets seeking each other to close the gap, he raises his hands to match his fingertips to hers. Immediately, her hands and arms tingle followed with an emotion she recognizes. She cries hard, closes her hands into fists, and presses her forehead into the glass.  
_'Appear'._  
Dana and Lorna gasp at her return and watch Bruce with interest.  
Within Jules' chest, a fire rages once more. Confused and angry of his presence, she wants to see him face to face. To scream at him. To holler profanities. To rip the flesh off his back like she nearly did the last time he lay inside her. She opens her hands once more and adjusts her fingers perfectly between the wires to feel his energy meld within.  
"How could you side with them? Why, Bruce?", she says in a noticable quiver. "You promised to be honest, yet you stab me in the back to bring me in?"  
"No.", Bruce argues loudly.  
"You say you love me, but hate me enough to see me suffer by bringing me back to life and make me your bitch."  
"No! I love you more than you'll accept and only work for the enemy to ensure your safety!"  
"I trusted you and no one else! I'm such an idiot!", she shouts, dropping her head with eyes shut tight. "... so STUPID!"  
"Please, Jules ...".  
"I opened myself up to you. I'm so naïve! So STUPID!", closing her right hand into a fist.  
"Will. You. Just. LISTEN to what I have to say!", he yells in desperation. "Damn it!", forgetting the microphone isn't turned on. "Dana! Turn on the mic!"  
His heightened state of concern presses between the wires with ease and she reads his desperate motions to console her, but she's had enough. No amount of his sorrow, empathy, or love can sway her anger. A rage boils inside and her blood is hot like pahoehoe, coursing fast through her gut to deliver her emotions into physical form. She makes a second fist, looks down at the floor, and vanishes.  
_'Vanish! Protection!'_  
"Jules! Jules! Damn it! Please listen to what I've got to say! I can explain why you're here, but I need you to ...JULES!"  
An unseen ball of orange surrounds her as she floats all the way to the rear wall and the infrared no longer picks up her body. The sound of his voice confirmed the energy which embraced her, his scent which consoled her, his anger pulling her back to the broken wall. Floating in a stand a foot above the ground with her chin down to her chest, she opens her watery eyes and raise them ahead without moving her head. Bruce narrows his eyes and scans in desperate fashion.  
"Dana? Are the cams picking up anything ...".  
She moves forward as quickly as she can muster, her right forearm ahead, striking the glass with an incredible impact. The air within Operations reverberates and causes Lorna to scream. Bruce, standing next to the window, falls backwards in shock and lands on his ass. He scrambles to his feet in a panic as another powerful blow against the glass sets off an alarm on Dana's station.  
"We lost comm to the viewing cams on our wall! The glass is holding. System's still in the green!"  
"Enviro's showing ...". Lorna screams once more for the third impact is even stronger. "Air temp at eighty-six degrees! System's at hundred percent! Oh my God!"  
Jules rams the window a fourth time, and a noticable crack is heard. She stops, examines the damage, and begins to pull away the broken two-inch thick glass shards of painted gray.  
"No breach to the external environment! Air pressure is steady!", exclaims Lorna.  
"Turn on the lights, Dana!", orders Bruce.  
"Where IS she?!", Lorna yells.  
"Right in front of us.", Bruce answers softly. "She's pulling the glass away to see us."  
Jules eyes Lorna first, then Dana. Not seeing Bruce, she pulls more of the broken gray with force. He quickly walks up to the window and eyes her to focus. With fingers pressed against the wired glass, she follows suit and lines her hands with his upon the inside wall.  
_'Remove protection. Appear.'_  
"Jules? Can you hear me?"  
She wails out to him.  
"Why are you here, Bruce!? Goddamned you! WHY?!"  
"The comforter? I developed to ensure you remain in good health. The bed has an array of medical sensors which I personally developed. They're both my ticket to be by your side, as BlackOps holds you for observation. If I hadn't put my blood, sweat, and tears into Moose's project, I wouldn't be standing here. With you. To see you're well."  
"Well?! WELL?! Do I look well to you? Because I sure the Hell don't feel well!", she screams.  
"I know you're angry and I can't blame you, but please understand this is WAY over my head. When Moose shows up, speaking of my head, it's going to be on his chopping block for instigating your behavior. I'm going to lose my job, Jules. And you'll be on your own. All I can offer you is that comforter to ease your heart."  
"But you PROMISED me. You promised to be upfront with me! Instead, you held back this dirty secret. THIS!", she points out to the room. "You KNEW I'd end up in here! Am I right?!"  
Bruce swallows hard, takes in a deep breath of air and exhales slowly, for she was right.  
"AM I?!"  
He wasn't upfront or honest as he promised when slipping The Empress on her finger. His eyes squint in self-disappointment and brows lower.  
"Disclosing the truth would've put me in Raven Rock for a minimum of ten years. Prison, Jules. I sacrified myself and sold my Soul to this Hell hole, just to be by your side! And I'm not a bit sorry for it! But ...". Frustrated, he grabs a bounty of beautiful salt and peppered hairs into each hand. "Damn it, Jules! I love you enough I HAD to take the job! I don't trust Moose or this Godforsaken place!"  
Her eyes soften. Desperate to hold him and accept his apology, she rests her forehead against the inside glass. She realizes just how complex her situation is and how desperate he's been to remain close.  
"I screwed up. It's my fault! Had I just listened to you and trusted you? I wouldn't be in this mess."  
"No, Jules. The job offer was a joke. It never was. Moose had every intention to put you in here. Even if you stayed with me, you still would've ended up in here." He rests his forehead upon the glass to feel closer to her and presses his left fingers against the glass, so desperate to feel her face. "But I'm thankful to see you're alive. Despite the circumstances."  
"What I did was inexcusable, Bruce. For you to witness my ...". She covers her face. "Will you ever forgive me?", she tearfully pleads.  
"Forgiven. Will you forgive me for not keeping up with my promises?"  
"Forgiven.", she smiles and they both stare at each other in a moment of silence. "How much longer will he hold me in here?"  
"He wants to see all of your abilities. After that? I have no idea. I really don't. But knowing how this organization runs, it won't be pleasant. You're not considered Human, Jules. You're classified as an Unknown."  
"I ...I don't understand. Unknown? What do you mean?"  
"It's based on your multiple abilities. You're viewed as a potential danger to society. Unless you agree to work with BlackOps, which means enslaving yourself, then ...".  
"Is that what happened to you?", she whispers.  
"No. My accident occurred well before BlackOps formed. But they did try.", he snickers.  
A silence falls between them as they rest foreheads against the glass and line up palm to palm. Lorna cries silently and Dana questions why Moose would hold Jules captive here and not at Site-R where all the unknowns are held.  
"You'd better get some rest.", he says. "I need to figure out what to tell Moose. You know. To save face.", he smiles.  
She looks at the two in the room.  
"I'm so, so sorry if I frightened you both. I hope I didn't break anything. Well. Besides this hideous wall."  
They both speak at the same time with "It's alright" and "You didn't break anything important".  
She smiles at Bruce and floats to her bed. Wrapping herself in a cocoon, she takes in his scent and shares the words he's been waiting to hear since she awoke from her coma.  
"I love you, Bruce."  
"I love you more.", he says thru his smile. "Dana. Kill the lights and return it to auto. Let's all do another check assess our damages."  
The mic is left on, which is a welcome change for Purgatory. Bruce left it on, intentionally, so she can truly understand how little control he has over her imprisonment. He locates the two cameras Jules knocked off-line and as he repairs them, Dana shouts which direction to direct the cam to line it properly. The only problem out of his control is the broken one-way glass which, unfortunately, is noticable within the room.


End file.
